tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425Fri, 03 Oct 2014 06:08:56 +0000dog fence life reflectionrunning thoughtsDog Fence Life.Thoughts of a father, husband, and follower of the Way, using what's been given, transcending and moving on in love, digging in the dirt and play'in with dogs...... http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)Blogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-831016672409505591Tue, 15 Jul 2014 12:44:00 +00002014-07-15T05:44:39.981-07:00A better Braveheart speech.<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">I just finished reading Brian Zahnd's book entitled "Beauty Will Save the World". </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">&nbsp;I love this </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">guy and his steadfastness in proclaiming the kingdom of&nbsp;God which is truly the&nbsp;good news that Jesus brought for all&nbsp;of the world. I could tell you what its about but you would get a better idea if you just read it for yourself. (reading books is good and its downloadable right to your smart phone!.) Chapter 3 of this book&nbsp;entitled "axis of love", inspired me to rewrite&nbsp;the famous&nbsp;speech of William Wallace to his men before going into</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E2pRfqX0-DI/U8UYW6iLXOI/AAAAAAAAAMA/LBPXqNkfH-w/s1600/beauty-will-save-the-world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E2pRfqX0-DI/U8UYW6iLXOI/AAAAAAAAAMA/LBPXqNkfH-w/s1600/beauty-will-save-the-world.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"> battle in&nbsp;my all-time favorite&nbsp;movie, &nbsp;Braveheart. If you haven't seen Braveheart, then you&nbsp;simply must start watching better movies! I've re-written&nbsp;the speech&nbsp;as I imagine&nbsp;Jesus might have delivered it to those who seek to follow His way.</span><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: &quot;Vijaya&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And I see a whole church of my brethren, here in defiance of the world’s power! You have come to love your enemies as free men and free men you are! What will you do with that freedom?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Will you love?” ……..” Love our enemies who aim to kill us?” shouted a zealot from the crowd. “No ,We will pick up our swords and fight&nbsp;in order to&nbsp;live!”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: &quot;Vijaya&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes” said Jesus, “Love them and you may die. Pick up your swords to kill and you may live at least awhile. And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that, for one chance,..... just one chance, to come back here as young men and tell Pontius Pilate, Caiaphas, and their minions that they may take our lives, but they will never take our freedom from all that is evil!” <o:p></o:p></span></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div>http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2014/07/a-better-braveheart-speech.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-1060485321140717666Tue, 27 Aug 2013 12:34:00 +00002013-08-29T05:48:27.702-07:00On freedom and giving up that plunder.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-amDpETroTtM/Uhv-PkWh8KI/AAAAAAAAAKg/CL6CCow-viE/s1600/100_3436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-amDpETroTtM/Uhv-PkWh8KI/AAAAAAAAAKg/CL6CCow-viE/s320/100_3436.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The book of Exodus tells us that, God, Moses and the work of&nbsp;that wooden staff&nbsp;freed&nbsp;his people&nbsp;from dreary bondage and slavery under the Egyptians. Moses says to his peeps, we're outta here and while we're leaving what do you say we do a little plundering, like&nbsp;all that ill-gotten and perverted worldly gold that Pharoah and his boys have gained at the expense of&nbsp;our 400 hundred years in the mudpits. "Sounds good to us Mo." say the Israelites, just as the Egyptians&nbsp;come begging saying... "yes, yes, take anything you want, take the gold, just go...before another plague sets in". The Israelites&nbsp;high step it on out with&nbsp;great worldly wealth, but seeing how they are&nbsp;primitive camping&nbsp;in the desert, all that gold ain't all that valuable.... water and a meal&nbsp;would be better. Then God says, how about all you who I've given a heart to do so, give up the loot and watch me restore it and refine it into something so incredibly fine, intricate and pure&nbsp;that I could live there with you. (ie- the tabernacle). And so they do, so much so that Moses has to tell them to stop giving it&nbsp;up, God's got enough for what he wants to do. <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Great old testament story, except what's it got to do with dog fence guy....and then it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, there's an allegorical lesson here as always seems to be the case with the Old Testament&nbsp;if you think of it in a spiritual, mystical, narrative kind of way.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; My loving Father, Jesus, and the work of the&nbsp;wooden cross freed me from the dreary bondage and slavery of my disobedience that puts me under the&nbsp;oppression of&nbsp;Evil. Jesus says, Freddy my man, we are outta here and while we go what do you say we do a little plundering and take back all those&nbsp;sweet treasures&nbsp;like love, intimacy, patience and kindness that you had before you fell and that&nbsp;the big evil one&nbsp;grabbed from&nbsp;you and perverted in his worldly way. "Sounds good to me Jeshua", just&nbsp;as&nbsp;the evil minions chime in pleading, "yes, yes, please take them, take anything you want, just go, before&nbsp;the light gets any brighter in here".<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; So,&nbsp;here in the desert of life&nbsp;I've&nbsp;got all this love, kindness and patience, but it's tainted by&nbsp;the&nbsp;world and&nbsp;whenever I&nbsp;try to&nbsp;give it to&nbsp;somebody, it always whispers in my ear, "but what's in it for us?" The Father turns around and says, Freddo, since I've given you the Spirit,&nbsp;how about you just give me all that tainted love, intimacy, patience and kindness and watch me restore it and refine it into something so incredibly fine and intricate that I could live there with you. (ie.&nbsp;my heart) And so&nbsp;I try everyday to do just that because I know that&nbsp;I am loved with the perfect love of the Father that never&nbsp;ends nor stops.......and it is that&nbsp;untainted love that transforms&nbsp;we who believe and are giving up the world's&nbsp;gold,&nbsp;in exchange for a real and mystical&nbsp;union with Him. And it is that love from the&nbsp;Absolute Lover of our souls, that makes commitment and obedience to Him and only Him&nbsp;no burden at all but rather an all consuming and wonderful desire.http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/08/on-freedom-and-giving-up-that-plunder.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-5787833453781583169Mon, 05 Aug 2013 13:11:00 +00002013-08-07T15:25:22.091-07:00Just mending fences.....Very often in the morning as Beth and I are getting ready to start the day she'll ask, "so what's your day like today?" My answer,..... "mending fences, babe." Often I will give it no more thought or I'll still chuckle inside&nbsp;at the double meaning of it.&nbsp;Having&nbsp;installed over a thousand&nbsp;hidden pet fences now, I spend a lot of time repairing them and such is life in&nbsp;being called by Jesus to&nbsp;never stop mending relational&nbsp;fences. The other day as I gave my&nbsp;pat answer, I got to thinking about Spike, the true author of my response.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZu619L8ub0/Uf-Wq9feLxI/AAAAAAAAAKM/RW527OUQ9Qg/s1600/100_0296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZu619L8ub0/Uf-Wq9feLxI/AAAAAAAAAKM/RW527OUQ9Qg/s320/100_0296.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When I was a student at Wake Forest many years ago, there was a gentleman whom we simply knew as Spike. He was a&nbsp;slightly built&nbsp;elderly&nbsp;man well worn by his years who wore a burlap sack around his slumped&nbsp;shoulder and walked&nbsp;the campus each day&nbsp;with a simple&nbsp;stick&nbsp;and spike on one end, thus the nickname.&nbsp;Spike's job was to pick up the trash that we students thoughtlessly discarded anywhere.&nbsp; <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As he made his way around campus it had become a&nbsp;requirement that when you saw him, you greeted him by yelling, "Hey Spike, how's business?" To which he would dutifully but cheerfully reply, "oh it's pick'in up, boys, it's pick'in up!" We would laugh, he would laugh as he probably had 50 times already that day and we would continue in our opposite directions. We continued on our way with a certain&nbsp;sense of superiority as cocky students headed for law school, med school, or business ownership one day. Picking up trash at age 55 was Spike's sad lot in life.....glad it would never be mine. Humility? It's tough to be humble&nbsp;at 19 nor&nbsp;to be expected when as Wake Forest students we simply knew we were predestined for a better&nbsp;life&nbsp;than Spike. Dear Old Wake Forest, that institution that we paid a lot of money to had&nbsp;told us so,&nbsp;and&nbsp;confirmed to&nbsp;us with each passing class&nbsp;that we were the crème of the crop by our&nbsp;mere&nbsp;acceptance there. <br />We graduated with diplomas in hand, having successfully made our first&nbsp;installment on becoming the doctors, lawyers&nbsp;and business&nbsp;owners we were simply&nbsp;drawn by greater powers&nbsp;to be.&nbsp;The next installment was reality. <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; For those of us&nbsp;led by our superior intelligence to become doctors,&nbsp;that nice new white coat and stethoscope were feeling pretty fine&nbsp;until we were met by, "So, you wanna be a doctor eh? Well, let&nbsp;us show you how to digitally check a man's prostate, there see?....now you give it a try."....."Hey Doc, how's business?"<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Those of us foreordained since birth to be lawyers went off to law school, where we quickly&nbsp;came to understand&nbsp;that a&nbsp;lot of lawyering&nbsp;basically came down to this;....find a couple of&nbsp;kids butting heads about something.&nbsp;Walk up to whichever one you think has the most to gain&nbsp;and&nbsp;tell him that if he will give you&nbsp;one of his tootsie pops&nbsp;you'll help him win his gripe and get what he wants from the&nbsp;kid he's&nbsp;arguing with. What's more, you&nbsp;tell him there's a good chance you can work it out so the other&nbsp;kid&nbsp;will be so scared that&nbsp;you won't even have to go tell on him to&nbsp;his Dad! .... Hmm...&nbsp;but wait, you mean&nbsp;if I can't find a fight to settle, no tootsie pop?&nbsp;&nbsp; How's business, counselor?"<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And for me, I went off to run that business. Since my Dad&nbsp;was&nbsp;a music teacher, I realized real quick&nbsp;that if I wanted to run a company, I'd&nbsp;have to&nbsp;start my own.&nbsp;This,&nbsp;I came to&nbsp;know,&nbsp;meant pounding the streets trying to&nbsp;sell something of value to someone at a higher price than what I &nbsp;paid for it. And once&nbsp;I've sold it,&nbsp;I had&nbsp;better make sure it keeps working&nbsp;to their satisfaction if I&nbsp;want to&nbsp;keep selling it to more people and stay in business.&nbsp;And so now, many of my&nbsp;days are spent walking yards with a spool of wire and a spade over my shoulder, looking for a wire buried&nbsp;in the ground that&nbsp;has been cut. How's business, Mr. CEO? ... "Oh, it's mending fences, Spike, it's mending fences!" and yes,&nbsp;I love it! It is just the job for a Wake Forest graduate.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; So here's to you Spike, Senior WFU facilities sanitation manager. May God rest your soul. You taught me a lesson only&nbsp;realized many years later, that doctoring&nbsp;may just be about&nbsp;loving everyone you meet each day with&nbsp;care, a&nbsp;smile and&nbsp;a joke,&nbsp;in hopes that it&nbsp;just might heal not&nbsp;only the&nbsp;body but a weary soul or&nbsp;maybe change an arrogant&nbsp;one. You taught me that&nbsp;being a good lawyer starts with&nbsp;coming to know&nbsp;that there is a greater justice than what the world&nbsp;can offer&nbsp;and that it begins with love. And that running a business isn't always about the bottom line, but providing&nbsp;something&nbsp; that makes the world a better place for those you meet along the way. Those are lessons that simply weren't taught by all the Phd's&nbsp;in&nbsp;those Wake Forest classrooms and&nbsp;that all that tuition money&nbsp;just&nbsp;couldn't&nbsp;buy. I&nbsp;wonder what I would have learned if I had only thought to register for&nbsp;Life 201 from Professor Spike, out on the quad..........http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/08/just-mending-fences.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-7711645579605672353Sat, 06 Jul 2013 15:35:00 +00002013-07-15T11:38:04.358-07:00Lessons along the running road.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QYzfgnbBOaM/UeRBe9-5w2I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/lud0UPy1BYY/s1600/100_3862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QYzfgnbBOaM/UeRBe9-5w2I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/lud0UPy1BYY/s320/100_3862.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I went for my regular Saturday run this morning to strengthen my body and empty my mind.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Along the way I saw my shadow running next to me and was reminded that I am not a runner because I run..... I run because I am a runner. Likewise, I am not a child of my Father in heaven because of what I do..... but rather what I do is&nbsp;because I am a child of my Father. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sadly, I saw a dead bluebird. It is&nbsp;my favorite bird. No bird lifts my heart like the flash of a bluebird across the sky. I was reminded that happiness is but a fleeting emotion and&nbsp;is no substitute for the joy of life that comes from being freed from the things of this world that oppress.</div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I saw a&nbsp;smashed turtle. In the words&nbsp;of a little zombie boy on a youtube video, "I like turtles."&nbsp;Having saved one&nbsp;a few days ago&nbsp;from a similar fate, I was reminded that acts of kindness are beautiful in the moment, but are only glimpses of the kingdom of heaven that&nbsp;is truly here&nbsp;but so elusive. I was reminded that slow and steady&nbsp;doesn't always win the race nor does fast and erratic, because it's not a race to begin with but a journey to be taken at&nbsp;my pace so that I might pick up some pearls along the way.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I saw an empty condom box and was reminded that real love isn't found there, but was reminded that my bride, my lover, my best friend returns tomorrow from&nbsp;loving little ones&nbsp;in&nbsp;Swaziland, Africa&nbsp;for the Father's&nbsp;kingdom. I can't wait to tell her I've missed her, sit with her, hold her hand and hear of her great adventure.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I saw an empty pack of cigarettes and was reminded of the things of this world that I have&nbsp;not only overcome, but more importantly simply transcended.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I ran past a line of little flags in a front yard, still standing proudly two days after&nbsp;our great Independence Day celebration. I was reminded that it is&nbsp;ok to take pride in my country and its contributions to&nbsp;the world, but I must also not be blind to the evil it has done.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A cyclist passed by me and was the first to smile, wave, and wish me a "good morning". I was taken aback,&nbsp;and reminded not to stereotype certain people into groups&nbsp;as&nbsp;unfriendly when they generally don't acknowledge you as they pass.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I ran past a discarded little flag laying in the dirt from our great Independence Day celebration and was reminded that nationalism and patriotic pride are but a fleeting substitute for citizenship in&nbsp;the kingdom of heaven. I was reminded that Jesus wasn't an American and that the American way is not His truth&nbsp;and way.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I passed an old gentleman out walking, with whom I had a very interesting and personal conversation with a few months ago. As I waved and said hello, he did the same, but I knew he didn't recognize me as anyone but a passerby. I was reminded that we are each others angels whether our clouded and aged minds remember each other or not. Some things are shared by our souls and possibly&nbsp;never forgotten.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I passed by the Grapevine Baptist cemetery and was reminded sadly that soon enough&nbsp;I will&nbsp;take the route of the&nbsp;bluebird&nbsp;and turtle. I was&nbsp;then filled with the joy of knowing that one day&nbsp;I will&nbsp;soar on to incredible and wonderful&nbsp;journeys beyond&nbsp;my ability to imagine.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I went for my regular Saturday morning run today and returned with even more than what I hoped for.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view and<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; we'll live a long life.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'Cause oh they gave me such a fright.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But I will hold as long as you like<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Just promise me we'll be alright.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Ghosts that We Knew.", Mumford and Sons.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <br /><br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <br /><br /><br /><br />http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/07/lessons-along-running-road.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-1480829093071799305Mon, 27 May 2013 15:27:00 +00002013-05-27T12:06:20.950-07:002013 Memorial Day thoughts... My Dad fought on the front lines in WWII, which included action in the famous battle of the bulge. He was one of three GI's from his original platoon that made it home alive. Growing up, he never thought of himself as a hero and believed that the idea of fighting for God and country were only pondered from the safety of one's lazyboy long after the war was over. Scared kid that he was, jumping from foxhole to foxhole and dodging mortar shells, all he ever wanted was to make it through another day and get home to his Mom, Dad, and his bride to be, my Mom. He never spoke of the war, until toward the end of his life when the stories that he had kept inside for so long came pouring out. Many made me cry and marvel not only at his courage during the war, but for the 50 years he kept them inside and went about trying to live a "normal" life following such horror. I think he would have said "Amen" to this article by Derek Flood. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/derek-flood/veteran-suicides_b_2134685.html">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/derek-flood/veteran-suicides_b_2134685.html</a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vo24Bnyly-4/UaN5j6TIYTI/AAAAAAAAAJM/JZuk54o64pU/s1600/Bastogne+thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vo24Bnyly-4/UaN5j6TIYTI/AAAAAAAAAJM/JZuk54o64pU/s1600/Bastogne+thumbnail.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="aboveUnitContent"><div class="userContentWrapper"><div class="_wk"><span class="userContent">Also, on this Memorial Day, remembering Erik Rudziak. He was&nbsp;my kind hearted, big, next door neighbor in Carlisle, Pa.,&nbsp;when I was a kid.&nbsp;He&nbsp;played high school football and took the time to play backyard football with a little&nbsp;shaver like me when I was 7 or 8. I will never forget the day we received word&nbsp;that he&nbsp;was killed in Vietnam.&nbsp;It was January of&nbsp;1969 and he never saw his 20th birthday. Rest in peace, buddy, you are not forgotten.</span> We will meet again one fine day.</div></div></div><div class="photoUnit clearfix"><div class="_53s uiScaledThumb photo photoWidth1" data-ft="{&quot;tn&quot;:&quot;E&quot;}" data-gt="{&quot;fbid&quot;:&quot;607724549260927&quot;}"><a ajaxify="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1&amp;src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-ash3%2F931192_607724549260927_1790586740_n.jpg&amp;size=221%2C268&amp;theater" class="_6i9" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1" rel="theater"></a><br /><a ajaxify="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1&amp;src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-ash3%2F931192_607724549260927_1790586740_n.jpg&amp;size=221%2C268&amp;theater" class="_6i9" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1" rel="theater"></a><br /><a ajaxify="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1&amp;src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-ash3%2F931192_607724549260927_1790586740_n.jpg&amp;size=221%2C268&amp;theater" class="_6i9" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=607724549260927&amp;set=a.102376749795712.5761.100000701629116&amp;type=1&amp;relevant_count=1" rel="theater"><div class="uiScaledImageContainer photoWrap uiScaledImageCentered" style="height: 268px;"><img alt="Photo: Remembering Erik Rudziak today, my kind hearted, big, next door neighbor when I was a kid, who played high school football and took the time to play backyard football with a little kid like me when I was 7 or 8. He was killed in Vietnam in 1969 and never saw his 20th birthday. Rest in peace, buddy, you are not forgotten." class="img" height="268" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p480x480/931192_607724549260927_1790586740_n.jpg" width="221" /></div></a><br /></div></div><div class="fbTimelineUFI uiCommentContainer"><form action="/ajax/ufi/modify.php" class="live_607724549260927_316526391751760 commentable_item autoexpand_mode" data-live="{&quot;seq&quot;:0}" id="u_0_32" method="post" rel="async"><input name="charset_test" type="hidden" value="€,´,€,´,水,Д,Є" /><input autocomplete="off" name="fb_dtsg" type="hidden" value="AQCCdo0W" /><input autocomplete="off" name="feedback_params" type="hidden" 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UFIMentionsInputWrap" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0"><div class="lfloat" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[0]"><div class="img _8o _8r UFIReplyActorPhotoWrapper UFIImageBlockImage" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[0].0">&nbsp;</div></div><div id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1]"><div class="UFIImageBlockContent _42ef _8u" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0"><div id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0"><div class="uiMentionsInput textBoxContainer ReactLegacyMentionsInput" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0]"><div class="highlighter" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[0]"><div id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[0].0"><span class="highlighterContent hidden_elem" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[0].0.0"></span><br /></div></div><div class="uiTypeahead mentionsTypeahead" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[1]"><div class="wrap" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[1].0"><input class="hiddenInput" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[1].0.[0]" type="hidden" /><br /><div class="innerWrap" id=".reactRoot[2].[1][5].0.[1].0.0.[0].[1].0.[1]"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></li></ul></div></div></form></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/05/2013-memorial-day-thoughts.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-204210145624043176Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:12:00 +00002013-03-15T12:36:36.808-07:00dog fence life reflectionSpring's eternal awakening.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wH2CZJt5-Jg/UT-ShJT0YZI/AAAAAAAAAHc/qZvLHCt9WqQ/s1600/1970.orioles.51453817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wH2CZJt5-Jg/UT-ShJT0YZI/AAAAAAAAAHc/qZvLHCt9WqQ/s320/1970.orioles.51453817.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The first&nbsp;hint of spring has arrived in North Carolina and with&nbsp;it comes the renewal of&nbsp;little league baseball when young boys&nbsp;drift off&nbsp;into dreams of going&nbsp;deep in the whole at short, backhanding a&nbsp;ground ball&nbsp;and gunning down&nbsp;that&nbsp;swift footed&nbsp;lead-off hitter&nbsp;zipping down the first baseline&nbsp;.......or&nbsp;visions&nbsp;of game-winning home runs drilled on a rope to dead centerfield off the flagpole! <br />But a vision of this magnitude&nbsp;can only&nbsp;come into&nbsp;reality if&nbsp;Dad, (that would be me), will&nbsp; spring for a new bat for&nbsp;one&nbsp;future Oriole shortstop. (that would be son Sam).&nbsp;Of course not just any bat will do to achieve Southwest Forsyth Little League hall of&nbsp;fame status. It must be&nbsp;none other than the&nbsp;Easton Brigade BBCOR S-1 fully composite (handle and barrel)&nbsp;with a drop of -13, measuring 32-19, this is the&nbsp;quintessential work of baseball batting beauty. Oh believe me, the less expensive XL1, 2, or 3 will not do, nor will the S2 or S3 be suitable. No, these are&nbsp;simply&nbsp;wanna be&nbsp;half composite or fully aluminum, garishly yellow,&nbsp;mutant sticks with grotesque extra long barrels. It is only the thoroughbred Easton S-1 that could ever be worthy of becoming&nbsp;Sam's precious. C'mon now, these are&nbsp;just the basics&nbsp;a Dad must know prior to the start of any season. <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Playing out in our home&nbsp;has been a remake of the movie,&nbsp;"A Christmas Story". Just substitute "Red Rider BB&nbsp;gun"&nbsp;with "Easton&nbsp;brigade", set the scene at Easter instead of&nbsp;Christmas and settle in with some popcorn, the movie has just begun. (an aside, there&nbsp;is no substitute for Dad's "fraj-ee-lay" leg lamp prominently displayed in the front window, still a thing of beauty&nbsp;if you ask me.) <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This script has&nbsp;taken me&nbsp;back&nbsp;to my own sweet days&nbsp;of little league when real boys used Louisville slugger all wood bats. We got them at Woolworth's for $5.49 after saving our 25 cent allowance for weeks. Of course, they cracked if you hit them on the handle, a frequent&nbsp;little league occurance, so we always&nbsp;had a wide assortment of various colored duct taped bats lined up vying&nbsp;for our next at bat. Oh, the simpler days........but then I got to thinking how my Dad of the WWII, depression era&nbsp;probably looked at all our "expensive" bats back then and&nbsp;relived his&nbsp;cherished days of playing stick ball in the streets of Wilson Township, Pa., when real&nbsp;kids grabbed the broom their Mom had just discarded&nbsp;and&nbsp;fashioned that broomstick&nbsp;into the best bat a kid could ever have. They didn't need any organized league either.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dKz2GqrMjd4/UUN3Mcc3oTI/AAAAAAAAAIc/FghOD8kPXTs/s1600/100_3606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dKz2GqrMjd4/UUN3Mcc3oTI/AAAAAAAAAIc/FghOD8kPXTs/s320/100_3606.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;And so it goes.....it seems the<strong> </strong>earthly tools&nbsp;that produce our sweet boyhood&nbsp;memories change from father to son, but the&nbsp;memories themselves remain essentially the same among&nbsp;us all.&nbsp;Young Sam's obsession&nbsp;with the "wonder bat" pales only in comparison to my own&nbsp;laser-like&nbsp;focus&nbsp;on&nbsp;the worldly&nbsp;items&nbsp;I myopically believe are&nbsp;required to&nbsp;awaken me to the knowledge&nbsp;of who I am in my Father's kingdom.&nbsp;It is,&nbsp;oh,&nbsp;so easy here in the imperfect of time and space&nbsp;to&nbsp;become&nbsp;infatuated with&nbsp;the&nbsp;objects that merely&nbsp;point us&nbsp;to&nbsp;a greater&nbsp;spiritual relationship. There is&nbsp;a&nbsp;Buddhist saying that speaks of making sure you&nbsp;never mistake the finger pointing to the moon for the moon.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Likewise I would do well not to&nbsp;make sacred&nbsp;those things that&nbsp;simply point&nbsp;me to a&nbsp;deeper understanding&nbsp;of the kingdom of heaven and&nbsp;my Father's love for me..... Scripture, other ancient writings, books,&nbsp;family, friends, church, art,&nbsp;a Vivaldi violin concerto, a&nbsp;meaningful Mumford and Sons lyric, a great run&nbsp;on a Saturday morning&nbsp;are really only fingers pointing to the&nbsp;sweet&nbsp;understanding that I am indeed a&nbsp;spark of the divine, awakened and&nbsp;born of spirit, deeply loved, cherished, and most importantly one for whom the bridal price has been paid. The knowledge that&nbsp;I am spoken for&nbsp;produces in me an&nbsp;eternal springtime as I&nbsp;prepare for that&nbsp;ineffable summer&nbsp;wedding day! <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Now then...let's get&nbsp;to&nbsp;playing ball and life, with a childlike&nbsp;joy and just maybe a new bat too.http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/springs-eternal-awakening.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-6539173019324543825Tue, 12 Mar 2013 14:08:00 +00002013-03-12T07:08:02.290-07:00running thoughts A brighter shadow.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UVHODZ1deLI/UT82aOiyaPI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8GGy-ySCAqg/s1600/Shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UVHODZ1deLI/UT82aOiyaPI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8GGy-ySCAqg/s200/Shoes.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="userContent"></span><br /><span class="userContent">While running with my shadow today it occurred to me that maybe just maybe one fine glorious day our bodies will not take the light and cast darkness, but rather take the light received and make it brighter. Then it occurred to me that I really always have that option!.....Liv'in in the now......</span> http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-brighter-shadow.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-3689157449606906437Mon, 11 Mar 2013 18:55:00 +00002013-03-11T12:45:16.764-07:00dog fence life reflectionDad, me, and dog fence wire.<div class="posterous_autopost" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span>&nbsp;</div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="p_embed p_image_embed"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhvlPsqbQPI/UT4zb8LlkFI/AAAAAAAAAGU/OaJ9aDJdCp4/s1600/Proline+jpeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhvlPsqbQPI/UT4zb8LlkFI/AAAAAAAAAGU/OaJ9aDJdCp4/s1600/Proline+jpeg.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A8RccQMiVm0/UT4yqShjcZI/AAAAAAAAAGI/RsTrxKRCecQ/s1600/just+me+and+my+dad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A8RccQMiVm0/UT4yqShjcZI/AAAAAAAAAGI/RsTrxKRCecQ/s1600/just+me+and+my+dad.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div></div></span><br /><div class="p_embed p_image_embed"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>I love what I do. For eight years now, I haven't had a job, but&nbsp; a daily joy that just so happens to provide an income. I love meeting people, playing with dogs, and installing <a href="http://www.triadpetfence.com/" target="_blank">hidden dog fences</a> that I know folks will love. I know that I am blessed by God to be self-employed and enjoy so much what I do. I am also blessed by those who have gone before me and paved the way......... which brings me to my Dad, me, and dog fence wire.<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><a name='more'></a></span><br />A few weeks after Dec. 7th, 1941, (the attack on Pearl Harbor), my Dad received his draft notice. He was in college and permitted to graduate before reporting for army induction. He was a musician and naively expected to be placed in the US Army band and remain stateside. Slim chance, as he was immediately handed an M-1 rifle, trained, and shipped off to France as a 2nd class private in the 101st infantry. At age 21, this kid who had barely begun his life found himself facing the violent end of it on a daily basis. At war's end he would be one of only three men of his original platoon to return home alive.<br />My Dad was on the front lines involved in fierce battles for small towns as the allies fought to take back Europe from Hitler's war machine. He rarely recounted the war during my childhood but one story he told was of his orders to run communication lines. Upon the allies taking control of a town, communication lines would have to be established between existing positions and the new ones now in allied hands. This would require a single soldier to grab a spool of communication cable and often run across wide open fields and streets to connect lines to the newly taken areas. <span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>Although the battle had been won, the town was far from safe. German snipers were often ordered to remain behind to harass the approaching allies and cover for the retreating German army.... snipers just waiting to pick off a lone American infantryman running across a field weighted down by a heavy spool of wire. My Dad was often that guy. He described to me the sound of bullets zipping by his head as he ran, zig-zagging across a field, praying for his life. Soldiers do what they are ordered to do in times of war but it does not diminish the incredible bravery mixed with duty. After the war, my Dad returned home, married my Mom who was waiting for him, and tried to put the awful memories and scenes behind him as best he could in an attempt to live a normal life. At that he did well, making his love for music a lifelong career.<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-odbzz_HmAl0/UT4x3G2yjPI/AAAAAAAAAFw/t18OfNCMNpk/s1600/Dog+fence+wire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-odbzz_HmAl0/UT4x3G2yjPI/AAAAAAAAAFw/t18OfNCMNpk/s1600/Dog+fence+wire.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />As I work each day, I am often reminded of the bravery and sacrifice of my Dad and his fellow band of brothers of World War II. I think of him as I grab another spool of dog fence wire off the truck to be buried in a yard. Ironically, I now make a living with that spool of wire my Dad so dreaded some 65 years ago. No one orders me to run with it, and there are no snipers who have me in their sites as I go about my business. I am free, blessed, and doing what I love because of those who have gone before. May ours and future generations stand ever ready to do the same. My Dad passed away 7 years ago, but before he was gone I took the last opportunity I had to let him know he was my hero. He just smiled.<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AU8PpxWaFuU/UT4yK1jknOI/AAAAAAAAAF8/-5UIR3UBQ1M/s1600/My+Dad+and+Rubin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AU8PpxWaFuU/UT4yK1jknOI/AAAAAAAAAF8/-5UIR3UBQ1M/s1600/My+Dad+and+Rubin.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Dad and first dog, "Rubin"</div><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/dad-me-and-dog-fence-wire.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-3833679594886757871Mon, 11 Mar 2013 18:54:00 +00002013-03-11T12:12:13.247-07:00dog fence life reflectionThe look back...<div class="posterous_autopost">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="p_embed p_image_embed"><a href="http://getfile5.posterous.com/getfile/files.posterous.com/temp-2011-08-31/rfhAEDDhHpynhfdtCzuvjjciphbAkjsswvsDhziqGIjCenHfilIeHwdazsez/the_look_back.jpg.scaled1000.jpg"><img alt="The_look_back" src="http://getfile5.posterous.com/getfile/files.posterous.com/temp-2011-08-31/rfhAEDDhHpynhfdtCzuvjjciphbAkjsswvsDhziqGIjCenHfilIeHwdazsez/the_look_back.jpg.scaled700.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a> </div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <span style="font-size: small;">School has started and with it comes the daily morning drive with my 11 year old son Sam to the loading zone for his car pool ride to school. It's a good time for father and son as I get about 15 minutes with just him at the start of each day. Sometimes we say nothing and that's ok, (it's a guy thing) and sometimes we talk of the day to come. Sometimes we sing along with the radio and sometimes we yell at the radio at the latest stupid thing we're hearing o</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">n the morning news report.<a name='more'></a></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;&nbsp; But one thing has become consistent and I cherish it every morning.....it's what I call the "look back". When it's time for him to go, we hug, say "love you", and tell each other to make it a good day. He shuts the door walks to his ride and just before he gets to the door he turns around one last time to smile and wave. I am always waiting to wave back.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;&nbsp; We've never talked about it or planned it, it's just something we've always done. There have been days when he hasn't done it, it's then I know he has something extra on his mind or is just excited about the day ahead, but nine times out of ten, I always get the look back, our eyes meet for that final goodbye. I love that little guy. I hope I always get the look back when his school days are long over and he's leaving with his wife and kids after a visit, but even if he doesn't, I'll always hesitate just that split second and at least remember when.......and that will be enough.</span></span></div>http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-look-back.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-1332105051582811370Mon, 11 Mar 2013 18:54:00 +00002013-03-11T11:54:15.744-07:00dog fence life reflectionBack to that same old spot.......<div class='posterous_autopost'><p><div class='p_embed p_image_embed'> <img alt="Man_and_dog" height="201" src="http://getfile8.posterous.com/getfile/files.posterous.com/temp-2011-09-01/tvzCxsnxkxCqrtjvqGrxgfqjltjrestFihtrrIeEhvohpwBgddHDEqCtetwf/man_and_dog.jpg.scaled700.jpg" width="251" /> </div> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hang with me, there just might be a life lesson here.</p> <p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; One of the biggest reasons that <a href="http://www.triadpetfence.com/">hidden pet fences</a> are so effective is because they play on the fact that our beloved pups are such creatures of habit. Often I tell pet owners that the training in the beginning is not so much a matter of the dog walking into the correction zone but instilling in them the habit of what to do once they hear the beep and feel the correction sensation. By having them on the leash in the beginning, you pull them back toward the house and the correction stops, thus they become conditioned that turning back toward the house is the way to make it stop. Trained properly, they just never figure out that if they simply kept going another 10-12 feet the correction would stop also, and they could be on their merry way chasing that squirrel down the street!<a name='more'></a></p> <p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sometimes in the first few days after a fence installation, I will get a call from an owner who made the mistake of letting their dog off the leash too soon before the above habit was fully ingrained. They tell me that their dog has begun to run through the fence. Usually it's because the collar has loosened up or the correction level simply needs to be turned up,... a simple adjustment.</p> <p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But the interesting thing is that the call is always generally the same and goes like this,.... "Fred, he was doing so good, but all of a sudden he started to run out of the yard and I think there is a section of the fence that isn't working, because when he runs through it, he always goes back to that same spot!"&nbsp;</p> <p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; One thing about <a href="http://www.triadpetfence.com/">electronic pet fences</a> is that they are a lot like your satellite hdtv reception. You either have a picture on your screen, or you don't, there is no in between. It is the same with the hidden dog fence, it is either up and working all around the yard or it is not working at all. The reason the dog goes back to the same spot is, once again, because they are creatures of habit. He could run through it anywhere, but they go back to that same spot simply because that is where they first happened to zip through it. So, they see that single spot as their door to your neighbor's yard. Again it is a problem easily rectified as we just need to close that door with a more snug collar or a little stronger negative reinforcement.</p> <p>&nbsp;&nbsp; Here is the life lesson for me. I like to think that I am not quite the creature of habit that my faithful Lab is, but I'm thinking I may be wrong. I know deep down that when I want to escape from what it is I know I ought to do, like be more kind, more patient, or serve others, I am quick to return to the same old spot (ie excuses) that have let me escape before. Of course, there is no collar correction, but that just might be preferable to knowing that I've forever wasted another chance at the true joy that comes from living the life I'm called to lead.......It's too bad the fix for me isn't as easy as it is for puppy dogs and<a href="http://www.triadpetfence.com/"> hidden fences!</a></p> <p>&nbsp;</p></div>http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/back-to-that-same-old-spot.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4403201904384673425.post-6274205298219846248Sun, 10 Mar 2013 01:29:00 +00002013-03-12T12:32:37.313-07:00dog fence life reflection"Houston, do you copy?"<div class="posterous_autopost"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Odh6uf5eS0/UT3eYVlN_7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/vjQiWuxSQo0/s1600/100_3311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Odh6uf5eS0/UT3eYVlN_7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/vjQiWuxSQo0/s1600/100_3311.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Upon re-entering earth's atmosphere, there is 3 minute period at the end of each space shuttle flight when Houston control loses radio contact with the crew. It has to do with ionized air not playing well with radio transmission. This loss of contact comes at a perilous time when the space craft could easily burn up and disintegrate if the well rehearsed angle of entry is not achieved. Houston control knows when the blackout is coming and informs the shuttle crew prior to it. Last minute instructions are given and then comes the silence..... and the waiting...... and the clock watching, as the all important 3 minutes count down. Finally after what seems like an eternity, the voice of the shuttle pilot pierces the silence saying.... "Houston...re-establishing communication" ....and Houston control takes a collective sigh of relief.<br /><a name='more'></a><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; There seem to be some similarities to this in raising kids. I've found that there have also ocurred similar communication blackouts with my young space cadets over the years. The length of time has varied per kid but nonetheless it still happens without fail. I have been blessed that these blackouts are not born of anger and rejection but more like one that occurs when you've taken the training wheels off their bike and you give them that final push for momentum as they pedal away. You continue to shout instructions as they go careening down the hill, but you know they can't hear you and aren't listening anyway as they are totally focused on the thrill of their first "real" ride. It is that helpless time when what is required as a parent is to simply trust your instruction and their innate ability to navigate and balance thus avoiding the major face plant!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JO0JGKNxr8Q/UT3euJYEIzI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VA-q7zL3rFk/s1600/100_3313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JO0JGKNxr8Q/UT3euJYEIzI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VA-q7zL3rFk/s1600/100_3313.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; There comes a time when kids seem to hold up everything you've ever instilled in them like a prism to the sunlight, looking for the colorful spectrum you've only thus far been able to describe to them. They ask themselves.....Can I really build my life on what Mom and Dad have believed?&nbsp; It's a scary time for a parent as our training is basically finished with no real crucial instruction left to impart. Their introspection also comes at a most dangerous time, as you pray that they will say "Yes....I get it....I see what you meant all these years!"<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I think we'd be wise to be as matter of fact about the blackout as Houston control is, knowing it's coming, knowing we've done all we can to prepare for it, and even informing our little astronauts that it will happen and that it is normal. Then we can do nothing but be quiet and wait, listening for that cloud of silence to be cleared away by something like..... "Dad, you know what?....you don't seem to be as much of a goober as you used to be", and I reply with a simple "Well...thanks!" all the while inside jumping for joy saying...."thank you Lord, he's back safe and sound."<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As a father, I take comfort in Proverbs 22:6..."Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." The angle of re-entry will waver and they will be subjected to the destructive fire and friction of this world but God has promised they will make it back. They no doubt return to us changed from when they left, which I must accept. They'll no doubt have jettisoned some expensive booster rockets, and be covered in funky space dust with blackened and burnt shields, but they will be back. And upon that homecoming, there can be no anger at the past blackout but rather a great rejoicing in the triumphant return home.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9PLdExp92U/UT3ezea3vdI/AAAAAAAAAEY/6827mOalYuA/s1600/100_3314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9PLdExp92U/UT3ezea3vdI/AAAAAAAAAEY/6827mOalYuA/s1600/100_3314.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That sweet picture is given to us in Jesus' parable of the prodigal son.....a picture of joy and a look to the future as a relationship with a father and his now adult child becomes very, very special foreshadowing the day when we ourselves will hear, "well done child, welcome home.</div>http://dogfencelife.blogspot.com/2013/03/do-you-copy.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Fred Uberseder)0